Don't - ever - post after you've imbibed

It's like, already, I know I've failed.

In the morning you (I) may find something, inspired by the photographs, interesting to say. As it is. I'm tired, and have had more than one sherry, and in this state I'm both comforted and scared.

Scared I may talk absolute and utter shit. Comforted, because at least I will speak my mind. No subdiffuse to contend with. No one to be playing mind games with.

Three months on the road and you (I), 'cos I don't know you, become accustomed to being yourself. No role play. No "oh it's so 'n so, therefore must put on the happy face".

I can't play the society game no more, it's just not in my nature. But I also, weirdly, still feel like I aint quite ready to give up. Just yet.

Buggar. Hate the not knowing.

x